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RPlog:Return of a Jedi, Part I
SF-5541 enters the system with little pomp or circumstance. One moment the Firespray doesn't exist, the next it does. Momentarily streaking toward the populated planet at extremely fast speed, left over from the trip through hyperspace, it slows to a lumbering crawl, a thin stream of blue coolant ejecting from a gash in its once sleek hull. From CS-9685 over frequency 5000.00: "SF-5541, this is the Chancellor. Sensors indicate some sort of problem. What is your status? Over." From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: "Uh..." a shaky voice answers after a moment. The alien accent is thick in a male, human voice. It continues, "This is the... ship..." A pause again and a sound of fumbling, then, "Soul Searcher. This is Alvin Davis flying. Heading toward Corellia. This is not a problem, yes?" From CS-9685 over frequency 5000.00: "SF-5541, this is the Chancellor. Sensors indicate a, err, leak in your ship. Is there a problem? Over." From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: ""Uh..." Again a pause and more fumbling. The channel remains open and the man can be heard, apparently speaking to himself. He continues after a moment, "... leak? Ah, yes. Small leak. Uh... pirates?... yes, I think pirates is the word. Pirates attacked us in the last system. We should be okay for landing. And get repairs. Chancellor. Soul Search... uh... out. This device is a terrible piece of work, Phi-" From CS-9685 over frequency 5000.00: " ... Uhh, SF-5541, please land in the Chancellor's primary docking bay. We'd like to take a look at your vessel, just to ensure you won't burn up in reentry. Over." From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: "This is the Soul Search," the voice states unnecessarily. A crackling sound can be heard, probably the speaker swallowing before speaking further. "Landing on the Chancellor is probably more dangerous than landing on the planet. At-moist-fear controls run better, and the controls are sluggish now. 'At-moist-fear'? What in the nine hells is that? What? Oh! Yes, landing on the smaller bay might be dangerous, Chancellor." From CS-9685 over frequency 5000.00: "Soul Search, close to five hundred units, and then deactivate your engines. We can tractor you into the bay with little to no dangerous side effects. We have technical units standing by. Over." From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: "Chancellor," the voice states after a thoughtful silence. "We have no desire to delay our trip to the planet. Are we under some sort of arrest? We know people on the planet that can give us the repairs we need for a price we can afford. If you wish to search our ship, can you not do this on the surface? Then we will be able to be about our business without unnecessary delay." From CS-9685 over frequency 5000.00: "Soul Search, you are cleared to land on the planet," Comes the response after, well, some time, "We have crews standing by in the primary starport, awaiting your arrival. They have been notified of your situation and are readily available to assist you in any way you need. Over." From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: "Thank you, Chancellor," the voice says, followed by what can only be a relieved sigh. "Thank you for your assistance. Soul Search out. See? That was not nearly so bad. You should trust me to do the talking more oft-" The Firespray 'Soul Search', or rather, the Tortured Soul, begins making its way toward Corellia. Simon Sezirok, calling himself 'Alvin Davis' settles back in his seat at the co-pilot's station as Phive continues to maneuver the ship. An Assault Shuttle lifts off from the Chancellor, and sets a course towards the planet, engines pushing her along quite nicely. After dodging through the space lanes, she lies in wait in orbit, in between the Firespray and the planet. Or at least, that's what it might look like. The Firespray moves slowly and casually toward the planet, and even continues on as the Assault Shuttle comes into view, interfering with the course that it was moving toward. Still leaking blue, steaming fluids, it slows its crawl pace even further, then begins to angle toward another lane, still pressing toward Corellia. After the Firespray goes past the Assault Shuttle, she in turn spins, and follows the other towards the planet, silently. A few moments of tailing her persist, before she coms out into the general vicinity of the pair of ships, And so, she moves out to broadside the other ship, matching her course and speed down to a dime. From SF-5541 over frequency 5000.00: "I have a bad feeling about this," comes the thickly accented voice once more, the words obviously directed toward someone other than the com channel. He continues, "This is the Soul Search. Thank you for the escort, Bazil McKenzie. Beginning landing sequence now." The Firespray comes down somewhat heavy in the landing port, but whether the poor landing is from an unskilled hand at the stick or ship malfunction, it's difficult to say. A thick, blue liquid drips out a gash in the aft section of the ship, making a small puddle. ____________________________________________________________________ Coronet Space Port - Coronet City This port is busy, like most, but here the hot breath of takeoff and the deep rumble of engines is closer, more of a feature of the port than an annoyance. The landing pads and small maintenance bunkers sprawl across a large open area open to the sky and surrounded by blast walls to protect the farmlands beyond. Pilots, engineers and techs, mostly natives, move among the hardware as if at home in the confusing and fast paced Port. A large complex off to the side houses control functions, transport authority offices, and the CorSec station. ____________________________________________________________________ Simon Of average height and fair coloring, the young man before you has dark brown hair and eyes of a color somewhere between blue and gray. His hair is parted and cut short. His eyes are deep-set, looking more ready to draw his brow into a deep frown than a warm smile. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: intense. The man before you is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures. Strapped diagnolly across his chest and back is what appears to be some sort of harness. It's worn in the way some people wear a bandolier, yet there is nothing attached to the device. A long shaft of cylinder rises over his left shoulder, a rod sheathed where some warriors sling their sword. Currently, the man's hood is pulled up, concealing his face in shadows. With his back bowed slightly, either from a heavy weight or old age, it's difficult to tell the man's age. He might not even be human. ____________________________________________________________________ From the Assault Shuttle, a small crew offloads. A pair of medics, a few techs, and even a few Marines. And, clad in civilian garb, and leading the group outwards, is Bazil McKenzie. The group strolls towards the Firespray, and waits there patiently. Turning, Bazil offers towards Lehec--one of the marines, "And you thought guarding the ship was boring." Bazil is armed, in all appearances, as are the Marines. And, anyone who could tell, may very well notice the minds of a pair of squadrons of Marines in the Assault Shuttle--waiting for something. The area around the Firespray is slowly cleared away by port officials, just in case the ship decides to blow up, or something. Slowly, hesitantly, the man that identified himself as Alvin Davis creaps down the landing ramp of the Firespray that just landed, that continues to slowly leak hyperdrive coolant onto the warm tarmac below it. A staff is in his right hand, a thick length of wood bracketed by brass hoops at its top and bottom. The man moves with the lumbering, hunched over motions of an old man, and bobs his cowled head in a series of nods as he looks toward the flock of armed marines. At the bottom of the ramp, he stops in his tracks, resting heavily on his staff as though the short trip out of the ship had exerted him. Lehec gives an innocent look. "It was." he says smiling. Bazil, himself, just waves the group to stay where they were, save Lehec, and strolls forward towards the man--Alvin. "Greetings, sir. I'm afraid, unfortunately, it seems you know myself, but I'm at a lacking to presume to know you," He extends a hand, "Bazil McKenzie. What can I do to help you today? Mind if our techs take a look at your vessel, perhaps?" One ear is cocked as his attention wavers for a moment, that little bug planted in his ear chittering away to inform him of something, or another. Cold metal arms, and that ear. All fake. Lehec follows Bazil while closely watching Alvin for any sudden movements. Over in the far reaches of the spaceport is a small figure sitting on the ground. Her coat is grubby and worn and her appearance is generally dirty and unkempt. Sitting next to her is a small jar, which some passerbys (the ones who don't take the long way around to avoid her) drop credits into. She sits motionless on the busy tarmac, seemingly unaware to everything around her. Alvin keeps his head down, his hood covering his face entirely in shadows, even as Bazil comes over and extends his hand. His eyes look down at the outstretched hand a moment before taking it awkwardly in his left, his own right hand not lessening its grip on his staff. Turning swiftly toward the leak, he lumbers toward the puddle. He kneels down, setting his staff beside him and puts both hands into the blue goo. He brings his hands to his face then, looking at them, then moving them within the shadows of his hood as though smelling them. Picking up his staff, he stands once more, then turns back to the marines and answers, "I am not one that works on ships. I do not know what this is. If your... techs... want to look at it, be my guest. If they do not get in the way of what I have come here to do Bazil Mc-... Mister McKenzie. Sir." Wiggling his brows at Alvin, Bazil peers behind him, and waves a hand towards the techs. "Your communications--did you have someone else on your ship? Are you, or anyone else injured?" He inquires simply, eyes narrowing even now, as he looks at the man. Something about this was familiar, and weird. Maybe it was the way he said Bazil's name, or the way he held that staff. Or maybe just the way he stooped--he had run into many a bum on many a planet. Perhaps he knew this one. Or perhaps not. The man calling himself Alvin brings his left hand to his face, rubbing his chin and cheek thoughtfully. The movement causes his cowl to push back somewhat from his face, revealing pink flesh that is puffy and irritated where around streaks of blue gunk. "There is one person that I need to take to get medical care, Mister McKenzie. She took injury when the pirates attacked us. If you can simply tell me how to get there, I will be further indebted to you." A child totters up to the woman sitting immobile in the spaceport, its mother obviously not watching where it is going. Thinking that Mira is a statue of some sort, it creeps closer, staring and peering at her. Mira continues to sit very still, aware of the child and yet seeing no real reason to bother with it. This has become a daily exercise for Mira, just sitting and letting her mind drift over the spaceport, trying hard not to forget the skills she was taught by Simon. She had hopes that if her mind drifted far enough, it might locate Markus, who had been gone for far too long for it to be a "quick trip to Tatooine" like he had said. As her mind drifts, she finds her mind drifting to piles of blue goo, a rather strange topic that she had not visited since last week. Of course, that had been a side effect of her visit to the trash cans behind the Mostlian Steak House. They had some strange side dishes. Meanwhile, the child creeps closer. "You'll want to wash that goo off before it melts through your skin, and kills you," Bazil offers simply, waving one of medics behind him forward, and grabbing at her little kit of wonders, sifting through it for a cloth, which he proffers forth. "That is hyperdrive coolant. Quite noxious," He offers simply, "I can either provide you with assistance with these medics, or if you'd prefer, the hospital is southwards," He motions. And then, it comes to him. Him. Simon. "Of course, you'd know that already," He plaintively states, stuffing his hands, now, in his pockets. "I'll leave you to whatever business you have," He offers, "Unless you require any further assistance from myself or my medics." His business was his own, and not for the likes of Bazil to interfere with. Not anymore, anyways. Quickly looking back at Bazil, Lehec seems perplexed as to how Alvin would know his way around the port. Thinking no more on it he continues his scan of the surrounding area, chuckling slightly as he watches the small child aprouch the old woman. Hyperdrive coolant can be, as many spacers know, a terrible irritant to the skin. The blue gunk that Alvin had meant to smear on his face as a quick way of disguise does the trick more soundly than he could possibly have imagined, burning and itching to the point that it is nearly unbearable. For other people, it probaly is unbearable... but the True Source is with him, and fills him from skin to bone. He draws on it to control the pain, and keeps his facial features smooth. Still, the natural desire to scratch overwhelms Alvin to an extent, and the offered cloth tips the scales in his mind. Gritting his teeth behind a smile, Alvin accepts the offered cloth, then begins wiping the uncomfortable substance from his face. The cowl slips back, and when Alvin brings the cloth away, a face covered in a red rash, blistered and sore, is revealed. "Some have thought I looked Corellian," Alvin says in response to Bazil's words. "But I am not. South, you say? Thank you." His eyes move to Lehec, and he gives the silent fellow a nod before turning his attention to the rest of the starport. Crowded. Lehec sees Alvin nod and nods in reply all the while making sure that the area stays secure. All of a sudden Mira's eyes flip wide open and she sits straight up, sending the child, who is at this point very close to her, crying back to its mother. Though she couldn't quite make the connection, she knew the blue goo was telling her that someone she knew was very nearby. Simon. The girl scrambles to her feet, moving almost instinctively in the direction of his ship. Mira pushes her way through the crowded spaceport, growing ever closer to the location where Simon's ship is parked. "Some say that a fool is little less than someone who cares not to know anything," Bazil replies, "I tend to like knowing who's who in the universe and what their deeds do. Yet there are also those that I care not to know what they do, for it is beyond me, and beyond my class. It is they whose business I ignore. I need not pay heed to it, for it is indeed theirs and theirs alone, as well as those in their class." Finally, Bazil ends his philosophical stint, and waves his hand south. "Yes," He offers with a smile, "The hospital is to the south. There, you can find whatever medical attention you or your passangers require. Good luck, Si--..." A pause, "Alvin." And with that, he turns, and waves the still mingling medics and Marines off to the ship again. The techs, however, remain, and begin to work at Alvin's vessel. Turning to Lehec, "Keep and eye on the techs, will ya? I'm gonna go let the crew know to return, and then I'll be back." His eyes dance about the port casually, himself. And then, there's Mira, and his eyes pass right over her. Turning to speak to Lehec again, he pauses, turns, and looks at her again. Mira. Who is, now, approaching. One hand strays to his side, near his belt, and he half-grumbles to himself, before catching his hand's intention, and setting off for the girl. This could be, at the least, interesting. Hearing the child scream, Lehec's eyes dart back to the old woman. What is she doing? Why is she coming to the ship. Slowly readies his rifle. Looking to Bazil, he say "Yes Sir." Tension fills 'Alvin' at Bazil's near slip with his name. The man recognized him. Of course, he would. If there was anyone on Corellia that would recognize Simon by voice alone, it'd be Bazil McKenzie. More important than the recognition, though, was Bazil's reluctance to act on it. That was much more important. And surprising. Drawing in a deep breath, a pin-prick of a sensation touches Simon's mind, and he turns his eyes in the direction of the approaching Mira. His blue eyed gaze widens in surprise and dread. How could such a large planet like Corellia be so small as to bring Mira and Bazil to him within moments of his landing? Lehec's movement with the weapon catches Simon's attention, and he turns toward the marine. He slowly raises his staff to gesture toward the rifle, saying, "That is not necessary, warrior." Surprised at Alvin's words. Lehec looks towards Bazil as what to do, noticing that something isn't right. As Mira slowly approaches Simon's ship, her footsteps become slower, almost hesitant. When they had last parted company it hadn't exactly been friendly. In fact, if she remembered correctly, there were many threats and much anger involved. And she knew that Simon could easily follow through on them if he wanted. Once Simon's ship is in view, it only takes her a moment to notice Bazil that Bazil has noticed her. And that he is now moving towards her. Her eyes then flicker over to Simon, who, it seems, has also noticed her. The girl's forward motion carrying her towards Simon's ship comes to a stop, and she just stands there, looking between the two men. "Sir, where are you going? Sir?" Lehec asks urgently. About to reach out with his free hand but remembering what Alvin said about the Blaster Rifle and Bazil's sudden movements he isn't too sure what is going on anymore. "Mira," Bazil whispers as he approaches the girl, slowing as he comes within range, keeping himself at least partially between her and Simon. Of course, little good would whispering /or/ standing in the way be if Simon really wanted his way made. "Go find some shelter. He's here. You'll be safer, if you can find a place to hide," He assures her, just in case. He hadn't known what had gone on prior to her leaving, but he could only assume the worst. And, besides, Simon had his mean streak; what with the Hospital kidnapping and all. And, Cort was an ally of Simon's. Or at least, was, meaning not anymore. He really ought'nt to have left his Directorship. Turning towards Lehec, he offers simply, "Stand down, Private. Just keep an eye on those techs." And me, he nonverbalizes. A little confused but understanding the order, Lehec returns to his post watching the tachs. Every now and then he quickly glances back at Bazil, Alvin, and that strange old woman. Forgetting himself a moment in the surprise of Mira's appearance, Simon straightens momentarily to his normal height, a scowl painting across his blistered, abused face. He blinks then, resuming his stoop as he turns his eyes back toward Lehec as Bazil whispers his words to the girl that had been his companion. Was. None of this mattered, of course. What mattered was still in the belly of this ship, waiting to die a slow, waisting death if she were not given some attention. Using his staff as a walking aid, he moves once more toward the ramp leading into the Firespray, remembering to hide his normal, broad stepped pace in the shorter steps of a feeble, withered man. That was supposed to be his disguise, after all. Lehec was surprised for a moment. He could have sworn that he saw Alvin stand straight up....Things seem to just be getting stranger by the moment. Keeping his eyes on Alvin as he slowly walked the ramp onto the Firespray, watching and waiting to see if Lehec really did see something in that quick moment. Though Mira had seen Bazil, and heard Bazil, she continues to just stand rooted to her spot rather dumbly and stare at Simon, waiting for him to do something. And what he does, is something she fully does not expect. He ignores her. That almost hurt more than any attack he could have sent her way. As he walks towards his ship, she turns her gaze to Bazil and blinks a few times, not entirely sure what to say. Finally she settles on, "What's he doing here?" "I'm not sure," Bazil responds quietly, "He has someone in his ship, that needs medical attention. And his ship is leaking dangerous fluids, which my technicians are working on trying to fix now. But I don't know why he's here, or who he has with him." And with that, he ends it, and offers her a weak smile. After a short while, the one calling himself Alvin strolls back down the ramp, pushing in front of him a floating stretcher containing the body of a beautiful, young woman. Her red hair spills down to her shoulders, framing a sleeping, peaceful face. Sitting on the stretcher beside the woman is the staff Alvin had been using. Pausing at the base of his ship once more, Alvin looks in Bazil and Mira's direction. They had thus far not interfered, but that could change. Especially now, should Mira see who it was he was tending. She'd been there when they'd dragged her away, after all. Mira turns her attention now to Simon's ship and the still growing puddle of blue goo next to it. "Oh," she says, half to the blue goo and half to Bazil's unhelpful reply. She stares at it for a moment, until Simon finally emerges again, this time pushing a stretcher. "I know her," Mira blurts out almost as soon as she sees the red hair tumbling off the sides of the bed. "She's the lazy woman we took from that temple. With Cort. And the bird monster. She sleeps all the time. We had to carry her _everywhere_." The girl shakes her head disapprovingly. She still does not move, however, wary of getting too close to Simon. Bazil is simply confused at the whole bird monster thing. Maybe Morganna tagged along, and she actually decided that nowadays she should wear some sort of outfit that had feathers, and things. So she could pretend to fly. And light herself on fire. Or maybe Mira was crazy. Regardless, Bazil peers at the new entrance, as well, and blinks, "Who is she? Do you know her name?" Lehec still attempting to figure things out for himself (and giving himself a migraine in the process) looks amazed at Mira and Bazil. He is still unsure of what to do so he pretends to pay attention to the techs while listening to what is bieng said. Before pushing further, Simon, still trying to stick to his disguise as Alvin, turns his full attention to Lehec. The man seemed to have the movements and stance of a trained soldier. If he was a true warrior, then perhaps he knew something of honor. "You," he says, addressing the marine. "If these... techs... can be trusted, perhaps you can do me a service and walk with me to the hospital? I have heard that this Corellia is like a fallen oak, majestic on the outside, yet crawling with vermin on the inside." Before waiting for an answer, he turns a harsh gaze in the direction of Bazil and Mira. They would likely follow along as well, but he wasn't going to invite such calamity. "Sir? Should I escort him?" Lehec asks. Lehec slowly begins to follow next to the stretcher. Walking along with Alvin slowly scannning the area and waiting for Bazil to reply as they move. "I do," Mira says, trying to remember it. It had been so long since she had seen her. "Something like Jessa Lynne Valerie. I remember because I have a cousin named Peggy Lynne Sue on the fourth moon of Valrthros Nine. Her family is _weird_. They farm tea. In the middle of nowhere." Mira shakes her head disapprovingly. "Something like that." Jessa Lynne Valerie? There /was/ a ring to that, but it wasn't very memorable. Pondering it for several moments, he thinks, and thinks. And then that, too, clicks. Something he ran across in one of Luke's vast files that he didn't destroy yet. Jessalyn, whose last name was still escaping his mind. Could that be her? His girlfriend, or something, if he remembered correctly. Hopefully, Simon hadn't defiled her body or anything. "Go with him," He orders to Lehec simply, standing there, peering at the new girl. "Tea, huh?" He offers to Mira, nodding, "I like tea." Tea was good. "Yes Sir." Lehec replies. "Shall we go then Mr. Alvin?" Feeling rather uncomfortable about what is occuring but knowing that he has to follow orders Lehec begins to move South to the Hospital. At Lehec's question, Alvin begins walking slowly and surely, pushing the sleeping Jessalyn down the street, her stretcher floating at waist level. Hunching over one end of it as he was, he was able to look at her slowly rising and falling chest, relieved that she was still breathing. She had been off life support for a few days now, and the one calling himself Alvin was concerned that she wouldn't make it to another life preserving device. "Yes, to the hospital," he replies verbally to Lehec. He turns his gaze over his shoulder toward Mira, wondering silently if she would follow. Or bring trouble, like Markus Lisardis or the Jedi Luke Skywalker. Mira bobs her head up and down in reply to Bazil's comment about tea being good. Without thinking about it, she begins to follow after Simon, keeping her distance just in case he remembered the threats he had made against her the last time they had seen each other. Her hand reaches down to touch the pocket of her robe where she kept the half of the lightstaff that Simon had given her, just to make sure it was still there. Despite the thick crowds in this part of the city, ti was easy for the girl to keep track of Simon, even when he was eclipsed by a passerby or a vendor's cart. His familiar presence was so strong and so close that it was like a spotlight to her, though there was something there that there hadn't been before, and it troubled her. A shadow lurking underneath, hiding. For now. After Mira starts to walk away, Bazil grumbles to himself slightly. What to do, now? He had told himself not to interfere with their business. But his curiosity was too strong in this to ignore. Starting off to the south, a few feet behind Mira, he follows them, whispering quietly into his delapidated comlink. No need to be undercautious--especially if Simon decided to go postal. As chance would have it, the very reason Simon had given for asking the escort of Lehec presents itself, and in an untimely manner. A hooded, gun wielding stranger darts in front of the pushes stretcher, nearly careening into it as he looked over his shoulder in the direction he was running from. A woman's purse in his hands, he doesn't so much as slow down as he turns sharply, moving at a full sprint toward an alley. Following the thief's passing with a cool, blue-eyed gaze, Simon looks toward Lehec, expecting the soldier to attend to his law enforcement duties. Or perhaps escorting he and Jessalyn was more important than cutpurses? There was a time, not too long ago, that Simon would involve himself in the capture of such criminals. Times had changed, though. These people, mired in the sinful nature of machines and technology, would have to take care of themselves. He continues to push Jessalyn forward. Mira continues to walk casually down the path after Simon and the lazy sleeping woman. The sudden appearance of the man, however, causes her hand to once again drop down to the lightsaber in her pocket, ready to draw it out should the man attempt to hurt Simon or Jessa Lynne. But he doesn't. He runs off, disappearing rather quickly into the crowds, only a faint imprint of his location left on Mira's mind. Lehec, however, vigilantly decides to persue the pursesnatcher, his rifle coming up and firing a number of shots into the crowd, "STOP! STOP!" Bazil just stares in horror, and continues to follow Mira and Simon. And maybe figure out something. Or find something to do. Or something. Oh well. It was betting than sitting around on his bum and listening to Johanna complain, or watching Cricket kill people. The rest of the walk to the hospital remained blissfully uneventful. A couple of wrong turns had taken Simon way out of his way, but memories of a heated pursuit brought him back on course. Stopping outside the hospital, he turns his gaze up toward the upper levels of the hospital. When last he'd seen this building, parts of it were in ruin. It was repaired now. He couldn't even find where Bazil had blown away a section of the wall. As Simon leads them closer and closer to the hospital, a tiny ball forms in Mira's stomach, sinking lower and lower with each step travelled. She had a feeling she knew where they were going, and she dreaded that she was right. Simon pausing outside the hospital only seems to confirm her fears. "Oh no," Mira mutters to herself. The last time she had been here was after the rather alarming car ride with Bazil and Markus helping Simon to rescue someone. The were all quite sore after that and she remembered Simon's dislike of the place and the "nursemaids" within. What would bring him back here? The last time Bazil had been here, Simon had been in the process of trying to kill him, Markus, and steal Sargent. Somehow, though, they escaped. These thoughts in his mind--not to mention those of who knew what other mishaps had happened on the planet--course through him, and lead him on with more anxiety. Hopefully it would all work out. Hopefully. Sighing heavily, Simon approaches the doors, pushing Jessalyn in front of him. He was not going to let things get out of hand, this time. Jessalyn needed what was in there, but he was not going to let the nursemaids corner him and stick him with their foul substances. He wasn't going to let the guards draw him into a fight. He was master of his destiny, now. He had floated in chaos before. Now he walked in strength. Approaching the first person in a nursemaid's outfit, he says in a commanding voice, "This woman will receive attention, now." That was how Cort asked for things. Perhaps it would do to emulate his new teacher. ____________________________________________________________________ Lady of the Lake Hospital - Coronet City Pristine walls of white extend as far as the eye can see, and the atmosphere is filled with the disinfected smell of sterile cleanness. Doctors and nurses frequent the halls, and the waiting rooms are commonly occupied by citizens awaiting treatment of one form or another. The polite, efficient nursing staff and large number of young medical students present keep the area alive with a certain level of warmth and friendliness while the serious tones of the doctors and other medical staff give the hospital the air of importance and professionalism such an institution demands. ____________________________________________________________________ Taking a deep breath, Mira pushes open the doors leading into the hospital and steps inside, pushing back her hood and sending a dusting of dirt down to the floor. She spots Simon a little ways down the hallway, talking to someone who appeared to be a nurse. Glancing behind her to see if Bazil was coming, she sets off down the hall towards Simon, only to be intercepted by a hospital worker, who was no doubt wary of allowing filthy women to walk around the otherwise clean hospital. "Can I help you, Miss?" the nurse asks, positioning herself between Mira and the rest of the hallway. Declining politely with a simple, "No thank you," Mira attempts to move past her, only to find the nurse sidestepping to once again block her path. "Are you looking for someone? Perhaps I can help you find them?" the nurse once again offers. "No, I FOUND him," Mira replies, trying to not get frustrated and pointing down the hall at Simon. "He's right there." "Oh," replies the nurse, taking her arm and half dragging her down the hallway towards Simon, assuming she was some crazy person who had wandered in off the streets. That was, of course, only half true. "You shouldn't wander off," she lectures Mira as she continues to push her towards Simon, who by this time, between the unconcious woman on the table and the dirty woman being dragged towards him, is attracting a decent amount of attention from the hospital's staff. Bazil sneaks in, as well, tiptoeing along the hall, in order to avoid the prying eyes of anyone that might spot him. Towards Simon he goes, trying to make it to him, before any hospital workers come to destroy his sneakiness. And, then is goes right out the window. "Mister McKenzie!" Comes the voice of an elderly nurse as she hobbles up to the man, "Are you here for another physical? We've been hoping to see you again! Ever since you resigned, your frequent attendance membership expired! Are you injured? Maybe sick?" She grins, pawing at him slightly, and winks. "I'm fine, Margaret," Bazil assures the woman with a crooked smile, peering down the hall at Simon, "Excuse me, I need to go track down a friend." "Oh, so you aren't hurt?" The nurse responds dejectedly, "Well, are you sure? I'm sure we can still get a discount since your injuries more than funded the repairs of all that damage you caused, and we even named a wing after you, since your contributions in payment for everything you had go wrong with you helped so much!" "Margaret, I'm fine. Please, maybe I'll get hurt later, and come visit," He adds, with a smile, before hurrying back down the hall towards Simon and Mira and all those types. "Now?!?" the nurse replies, incredulous. Her long face was hard enough it could be used for an anvil. Harder... you'd chip a hammer on her crooked beak. She places her fists on her ample hips and looks down her long nose at Simon as if he were a bug that needing to be squashed. Unflinching, Simon faces her hard stare with a cold one of his own. An impulse to put the woman in her place, to teach her something of what he'd learned under his new tutelage... but no. That would not get Jessalyn what she needed, and he knew that Jessalyn was going to be necessary in the near future. "You would rather this woman die?" Simon says, his voice frosty, but less harsh than his initial, gruff demand. The sounds of commotion coming from Mira and Bazil's direction... two different chaos storms, circling and twining around his wake... demand his attention. He gives the nurse with Mira a narrow look. She shouldn't wander off? What would be better? The cold look he turns toward the girl suggests his indifference. "Life preservation," Simon says, turning back to the stony nurse. "She sleeps deeply, and needs life preservation. Now." Cort never had to repeat his requests. He must be doing something wrong. Catching the stony stare from Simon, Mira yanks her arm away from the nurse who was dragging her ever closer towards him, obsitinately refusing to let the nurse move her any further down the corridor. The look from Simon was like a wall, warning Mira not to come any closer. "Stop it," Mira says as the nurse tries to nab the at loose parts of her cloak to drag her to Simon. Taking a step away from the grabby nurse, her mind locates Bazil bearing down on her. At least the staff seemed to like him. "I'm also with him," she says stubbornly, pointing towards Bazil without actually looking at him. "Don't touch me." Her commands to the nurse are spoken in much the same tone Simon is using only a few meters away. "Do not touch her!" Bazil orders sternly towards the nurse with Mira, as he continues on towards Simon and his nurse. He gives the woman holding Mira a stern look of order. Hopefully that one knew him, too. Well, Bazil was pretty famous for coming in a lot. Still he plows on, until he stops a pair of meters from Simon, arms hanging loosely at his sides now, his face mute and blunt. He affords the woman on the sled a simple, quick, look, before moving forward, and stares at the nurse, one hand pulling forth a small ID Card from within some fold of clothing. The ID is flashed at the nurse, and then returned, "She will be admitted." He mouths the last part impeccably, "-Now-" A gnat could be an insignicant pest if left alone... or it could gather its swarm and become a more signicant threat. Mira had already gathered around her the infamous Bazil McKenzie. Who else would she bring to bear against him? Markus Lisardis? Luke Skywalker? Perhaps even that vile Morganna Tazecks? Pushing her off could be a mistake. "Yes, let her be," Simon says after Bazil gives his own orders to the woman trying to prod and push Mira this way and that. As Bazil continues, flashing his ID and getting wide-eyed results from the woman that his own firmness hadn't even budged, Simon says in Mira's direction, "Attend me if you wish, but I am not here to fight, _Jedi_." The scorn he puts into the title is a touch harsher than he had intended, but there was no pulling the words back. Instead, he says to the nurse he'd first spoken to, "She is my mate. Her name is Jessa Davis. She will not answer your questions, so I will if you have any." Mira simply gives the grabby nurse a look that's intended to say, "See?" before going about dusting off her cloak and smoothing it, as if the touch of the woman had somehow greatly dirtied and disrupted the already very dirty and wrinkly cloak. A great deal of dust falls to the floor. The nurse, clearly recognizing Bazil, gives Mira one last puzzled look before going back to the nurse's station nearby, shaking her head. As Simon addresses her, Mira's head swivels towards him in surprise. The scorn in his voice, though harsh, was better than him not talking to him at all. "I don't want to fight you either, brother," she replies, her voice for once clear and decisive. And her reluctance to fight wasn't just because she knew that he was easily stronger than her. She had had little training since he had left, and though she had chosen to stay with Markus, she hardly considered herself a jedi. She still considered Simon her brother and teacher, regardless of what had happened on that one night. 'That would just plain suck if they started to fight,' Bazil mentally decides to himself as he peers between them quietly. Yes. One spark from those famed sabers, and the purified oxygen atmosphere could, well, go up in smoke. As could everyone within the hospital. Regardless, once finished ordering the nurse around, he stuff his hands in his pockets, and waits. He was just trying to help the woman. Yes. Through whatever means necessary. No need to kill Simon or Mira. With no small amount of reluctance, Simon watches as Jessalyn is carted off. After all he'd gone through to bring her here... but there wasn't time for doubts. He had brought her here. They would keep her alive. And he would find a way to wake her up. He and Cort and Phive needed her alive, and awake. Giving Bazil and Mira level looks, he says, "I am not surrounded by guards and soldiers, so you must want something of me. State what it is, and maybe we can help each other." There is no element of doubt whatsoever in his voice. The shadowy darkness instilled within him at the breaking away from Mira looms just below the surface of his thoughts, hardening his words. Mira is somewhat taken aback by this demand, as she wasn't sure what she wanted. She just knew she had to follow Simon here. "I -- I ..," she stammers, looking rather lame for a moment. "I don't know," she finally replies, taking a step backwards. The shadow lurking at the base of Simon's mind isn't lost on her, though she tries her best to ignore it, hoping that if she ignores it, that it will somehow go away. Maybe she could even fix him. She stands quietly for a few moments, the tension and awkwardness hanging in the air. "I guess I just wanted to say I'm sorry," she says finally. "I wanted nothing," Bazil offers plaintively, standing there, hands tucked away, "Nor do I still. I just wished to help that woman." And at that, he leaves it. What else was there to say? Mira wanted to speak of apologies. Simon's blood begins to boil within his veins. Speak of apologies? Simon had thought a bond existed between he and Mira. He had loved her in a pure fashion, and she had effortlessly abandoned him. All that had existed between them had amounted to no more than words, and here she stood, wishing to speak more. A moment of pure, poignant hatred fills Simon, honed to a sharp focus. In that moment, he could kill Mira. Bazil's presence was a calming factor, strangely enough. Swallowing back the bile that had raised to the top of his throat, Simon turns his attention to Bazil as he speaks, clearly not believing the man entirely. He could hate this man as well, standing as he was, the very epitome of the cancer that was eating away this civilization. It was a cancer he would cut out. It was what he was chosen for, wasn't he? The animosity he feels toward Bazil is a pale, small candle next to the bonfire roasting his heart for Mira. It's to him that he directs his words, saying, "You will both want something of me, eventually. We will see what price comes. In the mean time... you want to help this woman, Bazil McKenzie? I look for something that would wake her. It was from the Sith that she was rescued, it is from the Sith that she will be awoken. So it is something of the Sith that we need to find." Though he didn't say a word to her, Mira could feel the darkness building around Simon. The familiar light that she had followed through the crowded city is diffused and scattered until it is nearly exterminated, only to replaced by a dark inky shroud. He hated her, and now she knew it. Tears welling up in her eyes, Mira reaches back and pulls up the hood to her cloak, half hiding herself from the daggers in Simon's eyes. It did little to protect her from the hatred he was directing at her with his mind. Taking a few deep breaths, Mira tries to remain calm, as she could feel the darkness threatening to envelope her as well. "What happened to you, Simon?" she asks, peering out from underneath her cloak. "You've changed. You're not a Selas anymore. You're like Cort. And like that hunter woman. Dark." Bazil couldn't have ever claimed to know what The Force was. He couldn't ever experience it. He was destined to wander the universe without it's aid, without it's hinderance. Despite all his studies on the subject--countless files, personal recounts, and whatnot, he would never know what Mira or Simon felt right now. He was a simple man, with simple beliefs. Destined, never to know what they did. Despite all of this, however, he knew what it was to be evil, and what it took to be such. He was, at one time or another, considered such. Things had changed, and he had found, at least to some degree, himself again. And before him, as Mira's eyes brood with sadness, he stares at Simon bluntly, his own eyes slightly sad as well, though his mind is more blank than anything--side effect from being on Myrkr. "You have changed, Simon. I knew you, before, as a man that was caring and compassionate and without waste to his surroundings and environment. Perhaps I was mistaken, in that, and that you were really not, these recent sides of you hiding behind a veil," He relates, "I noticed it first some time ago, when I last saw you here on Corellia. Before... everything that happened here, in the hospital. The way you reacted to me. I didn't really realize it, I suppose. But you, you showed hatred, and you allied yourself with Strasus. A man who kills without remorse, from what I've seen. And," He points to Mira, "That hunter woman, should she be referring perhaps to Morganna Tazecks, or the other hand of the Emperor. They love not, and care not, what happens to people. And I pity you, as I do them. For you have grown to be like them. You ally yourself with dark friends, and you lose another. Farewell, Simon. May your life be all that you hope for." A bow to Mira, a nod of head to Simon, before he turns, and walks away, mind more or less empty. If he was to cause her grief, he would not help him or hinder him any further. Bazil's words have less of an effect then they would have, once before. Time and time again, Simon had been misunderstood or misrepresented by the man or those that worked with him. The fiasco at the hospital... it was a perfect example of the sort of errors in judgement that were placed at his feet. He had come to rescue the woman, and they had treated him as if he were there to kill her. Mira's words, on the other hand... as much as he wanted to block her out, as much as he wanted to scab over the burned out part of his heart where he'd cared for the girl... her words were a blade striking soundly between his ribs and cutting out a new wound in his soul. Gritting his teeth, he reigns in his temper. His voice is quiet and hard as he says, pointing a finger admonishingly at Mira, "If I were like Cort, I wouldn't be standing here speaking to you like this. I'd be breaking your bones, one at a time, or breaking your spirit to turn you toward my own purposes. If I were that hunter woman, I'd be even less charismatic. We'd dance the blades, right here in the hall, regardless of the consequences. I am Sim-" he cuts himself off, realizing the public nature of where they were talking, changing his words. "I am a true Selas. I know of honor and dedication. I am more than just words." Mira stands silent, stunned at Simon's words. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes finally spill over onto her cheeks, cutting lines in the dirt that coats her face. Though the darkness that was now in Simon was hard to ignore, it was true that he wasn't quite like Cort. Or Morganna. And what he said was true. She had abandoned him. No matter how bad he was, she had done it to him, and that hurt more than anything else. "Simon," she says, her voice breaking. "You're right. I'm sorry. I miss you." Hanging her head, Mira turns and begins to walk towards the exit, realizing that being around him was only making matters worse. Some day, she would make it up to him. Once more, Simon feels the anger at the prospect of more words from this girl that had hurt him. This girl... but that was what had brought him here, wasn't it? It wasn't enough to try and ignore the hollow part of his heart. He needed to fill the void with something else. He needed a new student. He would wake Jessalyn, and she would take Mira's place at Simon's side. "Do not tell me you are sorry, Mira," Simon calls after her. "Do something real." Return of a Jedi, Part I